


12 Days of Christmas 2019

by MarigoldVance



Series: Dribs & Drabbles [3]
Category: Poldark (TV 2015), Return to Treasure Island (TV 1996), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: (mentions of past character death), (mild angst), (skiing), (sort of Underage), Alternate Universe - Modern, Alternate Universe - Shapeshifter, Alternate Universe - The Nutcracker, Angst, Christmas, Christmas Sweaters, Durincest, Fox!Fíli, Grinchy Fluff, Holiday Traditions, Human, M/M, Open Ending, Sleigh rides
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-19
Updated: 2020-11-04
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:00:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 18,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27383827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarigoldVance/pseuds/MarigoldVance
Summary: my contributions to GatheringFiKi's 12 Days of Christmas 2019 event.please heed the tags[pairings/ratings are listed in each chapter summary]
Relationships: Fíli/Kíli (Tolkien), Jim Hawkins/Ross Poldark
Series: Dribs & Drabbles [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2000407
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7
Collections: GatheringFiKi - 12 Days OF Christmas 2019





	1. Home Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> FíKí, Gen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for [THIS PHOTOSET](https://gatheringfiki.tumblr.com/post/189723736560)

≡

Fíli settled back in his seat, politely refusing the steward’s offer of headphones and a blanket. It wasn’t a long flight. He dozed after takeoff, allowed his mind drift to the myriad of possibilities that awaited him upon his arrival.

The place was theirs, gifted to them by the forest during a time when they were desperate for privacy, aloneness, somewhere they could indulge in each other and the thrashing heat of taking what they wanted.

They’d made it theirs over the years. It was a cozy smudge against a vast, white landscape. Wood and glass and stone. The world around it was serene, all shy mornings and peaceful nights. Somehow, he and Kíli had blended perfectly into that place as if they’d always belonged there.

Fíli knew – a profound, unshakable truth – that Kíli was waiting for him there. A candle lit in the window ushering him through the darkness of their choice to abandon the comfort they’d known forever. They’d given up everything, together, but somewhere along the way Fíli had gnarled and grown distant under the weight of what they’d done. What they’d ended to find their beginning.

Kíli had never questioned it. Had always been confident and forgiving and promised Fíli they would have each other and that meant more than anything else in the world.

Why hadn’t Fíli believed it?

Eventually, his regrets snarled and gnawed at him until, no matter how much love Kíli cast on him, he had to leave. To think, to find answers, to find himself? He wasn’t sure anymore.

But he was done.

He knew who owned him and, every day without Kíli was agony. He’d been stupid. Stupid to leave Kíli in a tumble of his uncertainty; the questions answered the day Kíli was born but those answers ignored because Fíli hadn’t known how to agree with them anymore.

Every thread unraveled until he was nothing, standing in the middle of a city he couldn’t name.

So, Fíli had gotten his head out of his ass, booked a ticket and was on his way home, where he was meant to be.

When he landed, he hurried through the airport, paid for his rental and _drove_. Beside him, in the passenger’s seat, his apology snuffled and watched the scenery streak by in a grey-brown blur, a look of pure, unconditional elation on its furry face.

“Let’s hope he accepts you, boy.” Fíli said and scratched the pup behind his floppy ears. He got a sloppy lick in response. Hopefully a sign of good things.

Fíli would understand if Kíli couldn’t take him back with open arms, the way he needed Kíli to.

Kíli could’ve moved on. Could’ve sought refuge where they hadn’t been able to find happiness together. It had only been months, but it felt like years to Fíli; who knew what storm he’d left in his wake. Kíli was reckless and emotional at the best of times. Fíli didn’t doubt that Kíli would have, had he been so inclined, returned to the home they’d run from out of spite.

But when paved road turned into dirt and Fíli pulled up to the cabin, he saw it, in the window, flickering its welcome: A small candle lit just for him.

Kíli was already standing on the porch, trying to look every bit as angry as Fíli thought he was. Still, there was a hint of something else at his edges, something lighter that roused Fíli’s hope and stirred him into action. It didn’t take more than a blink, a strangled gasp, before Fíli ran to Kíli, praying with every heavy step that he hadn’t imagined that something-lighter.

Kíli caught him in a tight embrace, face immediately finding its way home into the crook of Fíli’s neck and shoulder.

“God, I’m so sorry.” Fíli choked, holding his brother like he would lose him if he let go. “I’m so, so sorry.”

“What the fuck took you so long?” Kíli’s voice was thick, his words shattering Fíli one by one.

“I – ”

Before he could continue, Kíli was shifting them around and staring a question over his shoulder. Fíli frowned and then remembered. The pup had jumped out of the driver’s side door and trailed Fíli, jumping back and forth in his path of footprints.

“Oh.” Fíli squeezed Kíli to him, arm tight around Kíli’s waist. “This is Brax.” Kíli glanced between Fíli and the dog, confused. The anger was seeping from his expression in increments. Fíli stumbled to explain, “He’s – uhm – he’s sort of my way of apologizing.”

“He’s an apology-dog?” Kíli asked in disbelief.

“If you’ll have him?” Fíli cleared his throat. “Have us?”

Kíli sighed and looked away. Just as Fíli was preparing his heart for ruin, Kíli responded, “He’s a start.”

And Fíli knew: He was home again. 

≡


	2. Fox Tales

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> FíKí, G

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for [THIS PHOTOSET](https://gatheringfiki.tumblr.com/post/189741490087/12-days-of-christmas-day-6-stories-inspired-by)

≡

They were sat around the fire, stomachs full and eyes heavy as Bofur stalked around them and told his tale. Another outrageous yarn about the _caretakers of the woodland realm_ or _forest watchers_ or ... something. Kíli wasn’t listening, focused on other things, like whether he could muster the energy to stand and fetch himself a pair of dry socks.

“ – they watch over the forestfolk under the guise of feathers or fur, paws or claws or wings. They seem innocent enough, like most things, but cross them and _beware_.” Bofur must have realized that Kíli’s thoughts were far away and decided to remedy that because the next thing Kíli knew, Bofur had leapt into his space and was yelling, “ ** _Gyyyaaahhh_**!!!” waving a sinister finger under Kíli’s nose as if he were brandishing a small blade.

Kíli jolted (from the noise, not the shock. Truly.) and screamed before he folded over with laughter, his companions joining in when they heard the infectious sound.

Bofur moved away and plopped down on his bedroll. “You should pay more attention, boyo.” He cautioned. “As unbelievable as these fairystories may be, there is truth to them.”

“I’m sure there is.” Kíli chuckled.

“I’s true,” Dwalin crooked an eyebrow at him and seconded the opinion. “Little critters look innocent enough until they lure you into their dens or burrows and you’re never heard from again.”

“Why would a forest guardian lure someone into their – ” Kíli flapped a hand, “ _Lair_?”

Bofur and Dwalin exchanged a look before Bofur answered, “To eat your soul, of course” but there was hardly any confidence behind it.

“Of course.” Kíli snorted, “I should be careful, then. I imagine my soul is positively scrumptious!”

A clump of loose, partially frozen soil hit Kíli squarely in the face. When Kíli recovered, he noticed Dwalin was tucked comfortably in his bedroll, snoring louder and more deliberately than Kíli was willing to believe. 

≈

When Kíli was a child, he made an unusual friend. A four-footed friend with a vibrant, gingery coat and a sly smile. Kíli and his friend would prance and play, tear through the forest beyond his village home, until Kíli was called in before sundown.

While his mother thought it odd, she didn’t say anything against it. She knew her son’s wild spirit intimidated the other lads his age and was simply grateful her son was happy.

But one day, Kíli’s life was changed forever and his friendship came to a tragic end. Raiders from the North Waste razed his village to the ground; slaughtered many and burned their bodies inside their homes. Kíli was whisked away by his father’s boon companion, far from the smell of charred flesh and the haunting echo of his parents’ deaths. Far away from the only friend he’d ever known.

As the years passed and Kíli grew, the memories of his forest-friend slipped through the cracks of his mind. He found interest in other things and had new thoughts, made new memories; replaced sly smiles and a vibrant coat with blushing cheeks and shy, pink lips.

Eventually, his forest-friend became confused with a child’s feral imagination and then a dream and then nothing more than a twinge of nostalgia.

When he came of age, Kíli joined the caravan of townsmen who traveled the roads in the winter months, selling their crafts and wares. He began whittling wooden figurines of his own; charming animals with peg-legs and acorn-shell eyes. The women in the towns they visited would swoon to his display and purchase as many as their arms or husbands could carry.

It was many years later, during the Festival of Light in the harbor-city of Dale, that Kíli met an unusual stranger with a familiar smile …

≈

“Hello!” Kíli greeted cheerfully and approached the customer, hands on his hips and winsome smile on his face. “Looking for anything in particular?”

“Perhaps.”

The customer appraised Kíli’s figurines, taking particular interest in the little foxes and robins Kíli’d decided to do on a whim that morning. They were simple and waxed, the stain giving them an attractive orange-brown colour. 

“Perfect to play with, for little ones,” Kíli said, “Dulled all the pointy ends, as you can see.”

The customer hummed in assent.

“Or, if you fancy, they’re nice for display.”

Finally, the customer raised his gaze from the little figurines to look at Kíli for the first time since approaching Kíli’s stall. Kíli was confused to see a visible look of surprise pass over the customer’s face. The kind of surprise one has when one meets a friend after a long separation.

“ _Kíli_ – ?”

Kíli’s frown deepened, “I’m sorry, have we met?”

As the customer opened his mouth to reply, a commotion some feet away snared Kíli’s attention so briefly, Kíli was shocked to find the customer vanished when he looked back to where the customer had been standing.

“Everything alright, lad?” Bofur asked. He’d returned from his evening meal within seconds of the bizarre episode and saw the bafflement on Kíli’s face.

“I – yeah. Yes.” Kíli flashed Bofur an unconvincing smile and ducked away before he was asked more questions.

He headed towards the line of alehouses a street over and chose the quietest of them for his supper, still unsure of what to make of the customer knowing his name. As a rule, Kíli only gave his name to people he intended to spend _time_ with. And those few faces he remembered vividly; that stranger’s wasn’t amongst them.

≈

“Hello again.” Kíli said with a tinge of uncertainty.

The customer from the evening before glanced up from Kíli’s collection of horses and cast him a wily smile.

“Uhm – ”

“You’re wondering who I am?” The customer said, his tone pleasant.

Kíli cleared his throat. “Yes.”

Disappointment flashed across the customer’s face, gone as quickly as it appeared. “Would you take a walk with me, Kíli?”

Again, Kíli felt unnerved by the customer knowing his name but nonetheless accepted the invitation. He was curious and impulsive by nature and, despite what everyone told him, he couldn’t leave well enough alone.

Later, after he’d packed away his figurines and offered Bofur an excuse, Kíli wandered to the edge of the city where the customer had asked him to meet.

“My name is Fíli.” A low voice startled Kíli from behind. “I know you were wondering.”

Kíli spun around and came face to face with his strange customer – _Fíli_. He was broad and handsome and Kíli quite liked the look of him once he allowed himself the chance to study Fíli properly. Honey blond hair fell past thick shoulders, tied and wrapped in places but loose for the most part. There was a cheeky sparkle in his blue eyes that both thrilled Kíli and made him nervous.

“Kíli.” He introduced himself before recalling, “But you already knew that.”

“Mm, yes.”

“Are you going to tell me how?”

Fíli smiled and ducked his head. If it were anyone else, Kíli imagined they would look bashful but _Fíli_ … well, he looked to be scheming. That shouldn’t have sat well with Kíli, but his curiosity heavily outweighed his instinct to fight or flee.

“C’mon.” Fíli nudged Kíli with his shoulder and proceeded to walk through the city gates toward the woods beyond. “I’d like to get to know you.”

Kíli followed warily, muttering, “Seems you already do.”

“I know your name; hardly means I _know you_.”

“And, at some point tonight, you’re going to explain that, yes?”

Fíli grinned, a secretive thing that pulled at the corners, “Of course.”

≈

Fíli never did reveal how he knew Kíli’s name.

Still, years passed, and their friendship deepened, eventually teasing the cusp of _something more_. They would meet on the first eve of Kíli’s arrival in Dale and spend every night together during his time there, strolling the paths through the woods, close to the city gates, and talking – sometimes exploring each other with soft caresses and whispers over cheeks and lips – until Fíli would escort Kíli back to his caravan where Kíli would fall into peaceful slumber.

In their seventh year, Fíli collected Kíli from his stall, as was their ritual. However, that evening, he seemed unsettled, constantly shooting skittish glances over his shoulder as the pair made their way from the city and into the woods.

“Is everything alright, Fee?” Kíli wondered, glancing behind them.

“I … ” Fíli swallowed. “Kíli, I have to tell you something.”

“There ‘e is!”

Suddenly, there was chaos.

Two men burst from the shadows between the trees, swords drawn, the sleek metal glinting menacingly in the moonlight.

“The Master has been eager to get you back. His favorite little treasure.” One of them said in a slimy voice.

Fíli paled but stood fierce, shoulders squared and stance strong. He didn’t have any weapons that Kíli could see but he nevertheless placed himself protectively between Kíli and the armed men.

_Treasure?_

“Fíli, what does he mean?”

Fíli spared him a worried look but wasn’t given the chance to respond, kicked off his feet by one of the men. The man struck Fíli in the stomach with a heavy-booted foot, forcing Fíli to curl into himself as the breath was knocked out of him. The man proceeded to pull shackles from his belt with clear intent.

“ _Fíli_!” Kíli cried. He was instantly grabbed and restrained by the second man, a sharp blade pressed to his throat. Kíli struggled to no avail; the man’s hold was secure.

Fíli was hauled to unsteady feet, the iron clasped around his neck and wrists. The man handling him manoeuvred him roughly by the hair in the direction of the city.

“Quiet the boy!” He yelled to his companion.

The man holding Kíli grunted and followed the order, striking Kíli in the side of the head with the handle of his sword.

Kíli fell into a heap and the world went black.

≈

Memories of a sly smile and vibrant, gingery coat came rushing to the fore, sending Kíli sideways. He rolled onto his side and coughed as if the air had been sucked from his lungs. His head throbbed, a steady pulse of pain in his temple where he was sure an impressive lump was forming.

He blinked the fuzziness from his eyes and struggled to stand. It took a few minutes, through images of a bushy tail and echoes of child-laughter, for Kíli to recall the attack and Fíli’s capture.

_Or recapture?_

Those men seemed to be working under someone. Someone who’d ordered them to _collect_ Fíli like he was no more than an object. A prize. A prize that had escaped and needed to be returned.

Kíli was dizzy with questions. He knew he wouldn’t get answers unless Fíli was found and, with that in mind, he rallied. He set off toward the city, sneaking quickly into the caravan while the others slept on, and collected what he thought he needed.

One of the men had mentioned a Master; Kíli would start there. It was barely morning, the sun hardly risen, suggesting he hadn’t been unconscious that long. They couldn’t have gotten far …

≈

It was less than an hour later when Kíli managed to track this _Master_ and his men down to a looming, ugly structure close to the outskirts of the city. There were armed guards at the entrance but none at the rear of the property. Kíli pinched the bridge of his nose. Whoever this Master was, he wasn’t the sharpest sword in the armory.

He snuck inside without trouble and cautiously moved down the corridor toward a large set of doors, slightly ajar. Firelight flickered amber through the open sliver and muffled voices could be heard within the room on the other side. Kíli plucked his way forward on careful toes and halted to peek through the gap.

Fíli was knelt in chains before the Master who sat in a chair positioned in the center of the room. His fat feet were cushioned on a low upholstered seat. He grabbed greased legs of meat from a small table at his left elbow, heedless of the juice that dribbled down his several chins and soaked the fine fabric of his shirt.

“Thought you could keep getting away with it, hm?” The Master snarled, hitting his hand on the table to get Fíli’s attention. “Sneaking out and playing with your _friend_. I bet he has no idea, has he?”

Fíli remained stoic, jaw tight and fists clenched.

“No. I bet he hasn’t. No matter. Since you can’t seem to follow the _rules_ , it seems I’m going to have to keep you in irons around the clock!”

At that, Fíli growled and began to struggle. The men clamped their hands down on his shoulders and forced him still.

As Kíli watched, waiting for his moment, the strangest, most magical thing happened.

When the sun’s rays beamed through the window and struck Fíli, there erupted a swirl of glittering light, like petals in a gust of wind. It dissipated as quick as it began and where Fíli had been stood a fox, the iron around its neck the same that had been fastened around Fíli’s.

Kíli blinked. Several times. And several more.

 _Impossible_.

The Master didn’t seem shocked at all. In fact, he waved a hand and said, aggrieved, “Take it to my chambers. I have a punishment in mind that I’m eager to get on with.” 

“Wait, no!” Kíli burst into the room, revealing himself less valiantly than he’d meant to.

The Master leapt to his feet and the man not holding fox-Fíli’s chains drew his sword, advancing on Kíli with measured steps.

“What is this about!? Who are you!?” The Master demanded, whirling at the interruption. “What are you doing here!?”

“Please,” Kíli said, raising his hands to show he meant no harm. Unless, of course, the occasion called for it. “I wish to buy that foxes freedom.” Kíli fairly stuttered over ‘ _fox_ ’, his speech intended for a man, but he recovered quickly. “Name your price.”

The Master raised a brow, “You think _gold_ is enough to buy the freedom of a creature as rare as my fox?”

“He’s not _your_ fox.”

“And he’s not going to be yours either.” The Master countered, signalling to his man to dispose of Kíli.

Fox-Fíli whimpered in distress as the man approached Kíli but Kíli gave him a wink and spoke again.

“I suppose, if you won’t hear me, I’ll have to take this _very valuable_ item elsewhere. It’s a shame, really. I thought you’d be just the man capable of wielding such a powerful trinket.”

 _Perfect_. The Master didn’t look at Kíli but Kíli could tell he was intrigued, leaning further forward and extending his neck so as to hear Kíli better.

“Once, I offered it to a _king_ but not even _he_ was worthy of its splendor.” _Don’t muck this up_.

The Master inched closer and waved his man still. “And what, may I inquire, is this … _trinket_?”

“Oh, no. But you said I couldn’t buy your fox’s freed— ”

“Tell me, boy, or I’ll have my men gut that fox and serve him for supper.”

Mentally, Kíli took a deep breath. He knew he was clever, and he’d spent enough time with Bofur to have learned how to spin a good yarn. So, when he pulled the sturdy-though-delicate glass globe from his coat, he smiled that brilliant merchant smile and revealed it as though it held all the magic ever to exist.

The globe itself was one of Bofur’s: It had a small turnkey on the bottom that, when turned, brought the scene inside the globe to life with a blizzard of glittering snow and a twinkling melody. Few had seen this design. Bofur mastered it just the year before and didn’t yet have any globe-scenes ready for selling.

Kíli prayed he wasn’t mistaking stupidity for cleverness and that his plan would work.

Luckily, The Master appeared very enthralled, indeed, coming nose-to-glass with the object Kíli held.

“You see,” Kíli explained, “Inside the globe is a very special magic. Once a year, on Yuletide, you make a wish – _any wish at all_ – and then you turn the key, like so.” Kíli impressed himself with his performance, turning the key with a flourish and bringing the globe-scene to life. Startled by the unexpected melody and motion within the globe, the Master staggered backward, fascinated, dinner-plate eyes fixed on Bofur’s (hopefully lifesaving) creation. “And _only_ _on_ _Yuletide_ ,” Kíli stressed, “After you whisper your wish into it, will it come alive with magic and bring your wish to life.”

The Master looked delighted.

And then he didn’t.

Dubious, The Master asked, “How do I know this _toy_ will actually grant me wishes, hm? How do I know it’s magical at all!”

“You have in your possession a man who transforms into a fox in daylight and you have the nerve to question my globe-scene?” Kíli put all the conviction he could muster behind his words.

And it miraculously payed off.

The gullible Master agreed to the trade, excited for Yuletide (a mere two days away). He released fox-Fíli into Kíli’s care and dismissed them from his home. Kíli and Fíli _ran_ , not daring to stop until they were beyond the city gates. Fíli led Kíli, his fluffy fox-body dashing to and fro on soot-colored paws. They traveled further into the woods than Kíli had ever gone, through untouched snow and over icy streams.

Finally, Fíli slowed when they came upon a small cottage-cave; a home built right into the rocky root of the mountain.

It was late into the night, after Fíli was Fíli again and he’d expressed his gratitude to Kíli in all the sensual, breathtaking ways he could before they collapsed in a heap of weak limbs and sweat-hot skin, that Kíli was able to ask:

“What does that make you, then?”

Kíli snuggled further into Fíli’s side, enjoying Fíli’s fingers as they stroked through his bed-tangled hair.

“I suppose,” Fíli paused to consider his answer, “In the common tongue, I’d be called a _forest spirit_. Or something of the like.” He shrugged.

“A protector of the forest?” Kíli wondered, remembering Bofur’s then-stupid tales.

Fíli chuckled, “Well, I don’t do much protecting but, sure, if that makes you more comfortable.”

“It doesn’t. I’m just trying to understand.”

Sighing, Fíli guided Kíli’s lips to his with a gentle finger under Kíli’s chin. “Does it bother you? That I’m … The way I am?”

There was no hesitation before Kíli assured him, “Mahal, no! It’s just a lot to take in. One moment you’re _Fíli_ and the next you’re … _more_. Makes me feel a little underwhelming in comparison.”

“Trust me, Kíli, you’re _anything_ but.”

Kíli preened at the compliment and nuzzled into Fíli’s chest, happy to stay there for the rest of his life if Fíli would allow it.

That was when he realized, “Fee?”

“Hm?”

“You knew me. When I was a boy, I mean. _That’s_ how you knew my name.”

“Yes.” Fíli pressed a spattering of kisses into Kíli’s hair, “I thought, after what happened, when you were taken away, that I would never see you again. I tried, for months, to find you.” He squeezed Kíli closer, stroking a thumb tenderly over Kíli’s cheekbone as if to comfort him from memory. “Imagine my surprise when my old friend found me instead.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I was trying to but being ambushed does have a way of changing the subject.”

Kíli swatted Fíli in the stomach, not amused. They lay in comfortable silence for awhile before Kíli broke it once more, a panicky edge to his voice, “Fee?”

Fíli couldn’t help the fond smile that tugged his lips, “Yea?”

“Are you going to … eat my soul?”

Fíli laughed, a rich, hearty sound that filled all the spaces around them, and Kíli couldn’t help but join him.

“… who says I haven’t already?”

≡

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
> This entire thing was written just so I could use the term “boon companion” …
> 
> … not even kidding.


	3. Avalanche

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> FíKí, T

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for [THIS PHOTOSET](https://gatheringfiki.tumblr.com/post/189759564285/12-days-of-christmas-day-7-special-thanks-to)

≡

Fíli remembers.

Screams and thunder and tumbling white; the world collapsing and swallowing him whole. There was suffocating blackness and cold and then a spear of light. Blankets and sirens and questions muffled below a sharp ringing that still hasn’t ceased.

Fíli remembers the day his father died.

∞

Kíli was told to stay behind. Their father used his _Dad Voice_ , squeezed Kíli’s shoulder and explained that Kíli’s _time will come, kiddo, but it’s not today_. It took a bribe of chalet hot chocolate and a pinky-swear that Kíli was in charge of picking the movies for Family Night for a month before Kíli let them go.

Fíli left him with a boastful grin and followed their father to the lifts, stomach fluttering with anticipation.

Kíli was only seven and too inexperienced to join them, barely able to maneuver the green-circles without supervision. Fíli regarded the trail their father chose like it was a rite of passage: Higher winds and rockier slopes. It meant that their father had faith in Fíli’s abilities; saw something in him that he hadn’t noticed develop within himself. And that was _everything_.

It didn’t take long for things to go sideways. It was almost instantaneous: They slid off the chair and _wham_. In the snap of a finger. No lead-up. No signs. No bad feelings. Just: One minute they’re together, sharing a moment that was _just theirs_ , and the next … Fíli didn’t have a father.

An explanation, laden with technicalities and fucking _science_ , was all he had to go home with.

Kíli was too young to properly understand. He’d tried to console Fíli, but he couldn’t quite _get_ it. He knew their father was never coming back. He knew Fíli and their mother were sad. He knew he was sad. But he still didn’t grasp the heaviness of it the way Fíli did.

Maybe it was a good thing that the loss wasn’t so tough on Kíli. Maybe it wasn’t. Fíli still isn’t sure.

While Fíli vowed – in fear and grief – that he would _never_ set foot on a ski trail again, Kíli threw himself into it, determined to master the skill. Fíli sometimes wonders if that’s how Kíli chooses to remember their father. Most of the time Fíli holds his breath and has a lot of crude conversations with God while he waits for Kíli in the safety of the chalet lounge.

Kíli embodies all the gung-ho recklessness and freedom their father loved about skiing. Which makes Fíli a nervous-fucking-wreck, head buried in a book he isn’t reading and counting down the minutes until Kíli decides he’s had enough, and it’s time to go home.

Once, Fíli asked their mother how she was so easy about Kíli doing the last thing their father ever did. She’d smiled softly and tried to explain that she loved Kíli and, sometimes in love, you have to let go.

Fíli hadn’t understood until he and Kíli were older, adults, and Kíli threatened to walk out of Fíli’s life if Fíli didn’t _lighten up, Jesus!_

Every year, every season, Fíli works through his apprehensions. Ignores the voice screaming warnings at him, drowns it out by repeating his truth ( _this is for Kíli and Kíli loves you and you need to let him be free_ ). Yes, he dreads it. Dreads seeing Christmas decorations in shop windows and the first snowfall and bumping into signs of _peppermint lattes_ and _gingerbread hot chocolate_. Because, fuck, that means _fresh powder_ and _good temperatures, c’mon Fee!_

But … he also thrills at seeing Kíli’s wind-tousled hair. The feel of Kíli’s frostnipped nose as it draws patterns into Fíli’s cheeks when they kiss. The ridiculous brilliant smile Kíli wears every time he finishes a run and wants Fíli to know every damned detail of how it went.

Fíli might be too scared, too angry, too many things, to do the last thing their father ever did with them. But he is brave enough to let Kíli go. Brave enough to wait for him. And that’s all that matters.

≡


	4. Home For Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> FíKí, Gen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for [THIS PHOTOSET](https://gatheringfiki.tumblr.com/post/189777375945/12-days-of-christmas-day-8-special-thanks-to)

≡

“I’m sorry,” Fíli repeated, the hum and rattle of the train in the background mocking, as if it were saying, _I get him, you don’t_.

Kíli exhaled heavily and dropped back against the pillows he’d piled behind him.

“It’s been a year, Fee.” He said though he sounded resigned, having expected the disappointment in advance.

Fíli always tried, Kíli knew – made great efforts to _accept_ – to be home at Kíli’s behest: For holidays or birthdays or weddings. But Fíli had a demanding job (one he _loved_ and who the fuck was Kíli to make his brother feel guilty about it?) that stole his days, weeks, months until whole years had passed between visits.

“I know but I just can’t get out of it. Kíli, I promise, I’ll do what I can, okay?”

Kíli offered his brother a weak half-smile and disconnected with – what he hoped was – an understanding, “Don’t worry about it. I still love you.”

He closed his laptop and pulled his earbuds from his ears, staring sightlessly at the ceiling for a minute before deciding he needed to get some sleep. While disappointed that his brother wouldn’t be joining them for Christmas (and what a fucker to inadvertently force Kíli to be the one to relay the news to their mother), he still had family to enjoy. No, Fíli wouldn’t be there but that didn’t mean they would be lacking in laughter and stories and too much wine.

Kíli snorted: And, possibly, _too much information_. Last year, they’d learned things they’d never be able to unlearn about Dori. Things that made **no sense** but kind of **did** and _what the hell, no one needed to know that!_

He shuddered and smooshed a pillow over his head, trying in vain to drown out the memories of what had been revealed the year before.

≈

The next morning, Kíli made his way into the kitchen to fix himself a coffee. Thorin sat at the small wooden table, hiding behind his newspaper. He’d already been forced into a gawdy, busy Christmas jumper and looked miserable despite the tense smiles he flashed Bilbo whenever Bilbo looked away from his baking to shine brightly at him.

Kíli stifled his laughter, taking a gulp of his coffee and somehow not choking.

“Go feed the horses,” Thorin grumped but quickly plastered on another smile when Bilbo’s eyes landed on him, looking more crazed than cheerful.

“‘Course.” Kíli pressed his lips together, his shoulders trembling as he fled the kitchen, the need to burst overwhelming. When he was out of sight and sound, he slumped against the nearest wall and let himself laugh.

“Oi,” Dwalin called from the formal living room, “If yer gonna be useless, come give us a hand!”

Kíli peeked into the room and grinned. “Not useless: I’ve been tasked with the horses.”

“ … Would you feel up to trading?”

“Nonsense!” Dís smacked Dwalin on the shoulder, emerging from behind the massive, fluffy tree. “Kíli, cherub, could you pass me the box of tinsel there beside you?”

She fussed, hung decorations, stood back, and fussed some more. How she managed to harangue Dwalin into helping, Kíli would never know. His mother was capable of miracles and he would leave it at that. Behind the pair, Nori and Bofur were strung together with three colours of garland for Dís to hum and haw over, neither looking pleased but staying wisely quiet. In the corner, sat in a wide, tall-backed armchair, Ori was contentedly scrawling the last few names across their placement cards, the star-topper somehow having been placed atop his head for, what Kíli assumed was, safe keeping. Ori didn’t seem to mind, nor did he seem to notice.

Kíli handed his mother the box she asked for, gave Dwalin a wink and went on his way. He grabbed his coat and forced his feet into his uncle’s goulashes and made his way outside.

The village below came into view as he put paces between himself and his family home. Red stone and quiet avenues, quaint under a fresh blanket of snow. Kíli loved that view. Every year, the village transformed into a postcard-perfect scene. 

The white line of rowhouses were decorated in pineneedle wreathes, baubles and fairylights adorning the trees on front lawns, down the curve of the sloping hillside beyond the acres that made up part of the land Erebor House stood proudly on.

He meandered up to the stables and greeted the four Shires that whinnied their own hellos, eager for breakfast.

“Hello girl.” Kíli chuckled when he was nudged by a long, heavy nose. He turned to scratch Jade behind one soft, flicking ear before setting about his duties.

Kíli was halfway through finished when there was a shift in the air at his back. He paused, sticking the pitchfork upright into the bale of hay he’d been separating. When he turned, his breath caught.

“You said – ”

“I lied.”

Fíli was golden against the backdrop of whites and browns and greys, twinkling at Kíli with a broad, cheeky smile. He dropped the rucksack he’d had slung over one shoulder and rushed Kíli, lifting him like he weighed nothing. Kíli couldn’t help it; he threw his head back and laughed, bursting with more joy than he could remember ever feeling in one moment. He threw his arms around Fíli’s neck as his brother carefully lay him down on the barn floor.

All he knew after was cold hands on warm skin and the scratch of hay on his back; the heat of Fíli’s mouth on him, greedily nipping its way along Kíli’s jawline to the sensitive skin behind his ear. They didn’t bother removing layers, casting aside what they could and undoing what buttons needed to be undone with hasty fingers. Panting into each other’s mouths, they moved in clumsy rhythm against each other, unconcerned about the four pairs of eyes watching them with interest.

It was hurried and quick and not very romantic but Kíli couldn’t care less: Fíli was _there_ , a real and heavy weight between his thighs, and that was as close to perfect as Kíli could ask for.

Moments later, when they were both sated in a tangle of limbs and barn dirt, Kíli caught Fíli watching him in that way that Fíli did before he shared something _important_. The last time he’d seen that look was right before Fíli announced he’d be leaving home with no intention of returning. Not permanently, anyway.

“What?” Kíli asked, lifting himself onto an elbow so he could stare down at Fíli.

“Come with me.” Fíli blurted, obviously stunned. Either at _what_ he’d said or how he’d said it, Kíli wasn’t sure.

“Uhm. I’m sorry?”

Fíli took a deep breath and repeated, “Come with me, Kee.”

This was the first time Fíli had ever offered to take Kíli with him.

“Please.” Fíli added when Kíli didn’t say anything, still too busy staring at him in shock.

“I – ”

“You don’t have to answer now but – ”

“Yes.” Kíli interrupted.

Fíli looked confused, like his brain wasn’t registering what his ears had just heard. “What?”

“I said yes!” Kíli’s job didn’t demand an office or a nine-to-five schedule, he didn’t have a boss to discuss things with nor coworkers to consider. He only had the studio in town to avoid going stir-crazy being at home every day. The decision was an easy one to make.

“Yes?”

“Yes!”

Kíli rolled onto Fíli, capturing his lips in a wild kiss that was all teeth and tongue and fever. Fíli wrapped his arms tightly around Kíli’s middle and rocked them sideways until he was above his brother, smiling sunshine down at him as he reveled in Kíli’s answer.

“I’m sorry it took me this long.” Fíli said in an almost-whisper.

“I’m sorry I let it take you this long.”

Neither was intent to move but it didn’t take that long to feed the horses and Thorin would be itching for any excuse to remove himself from the kitchen. They tidied themselves up, dusting off their jeans and plucking hay from their hair, and wandered back to the house.

Kíli would lose Fíli to their mother and Kíli would be forced to help dress the table and it would be hours before he and Fíli had another chance to be alone. But it would be a real Christmas, with laughter and stories and too much wine.

And, of course, Kíli shook his head, watching Dwalin and his mother, too much information.

≡


	5. Dance of the Sugarplum Fairies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> FíKí, Gen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for [THIS PHOTOSET](https://gatheringfiki.tumblr.com/post/189793129526/12-days-of-christmas-day-9-bonus-fullsize-fili)

≡

He was dreaming, he knew, because rats didn’t have kings and he wasn’t a prince and candies didn’t dance nor curtsy. Most of all, how he really came to realize this was all a dream was nutcrackers weren’t handsome. Or his height. Or able to move on their own. He could list off quite a few more reasons but the nutcracker was staring at him, waiting for him to say something.

“No?” He said uncertainly.

“No?” The nutcracker repeated, frowning.

“Yes?” He tried again.

And, again, the nutcracker repeated, “Yes?” And then said, “You don’t seem very sure.”

That was an understatement. “Truthfully, I’m not very sure of anything at the moment.”

“Such as?”

“Well, for starters, where I am. Who you are? If I’m still myself because _that_ – ” He pointed rather hard to the corner of the room – that was once not as huge as it was then – where an alarmingly tall Christmas tree stood, “ – shouldn’t be as gargantuan as it is. Which means either I’ve _shrunk,_ or it’s _grown_ and neither seems possible, thank you _very much_.”

“You’re welcome.” The nutcracker said dismissively, more concerned with the tree and the changes it supposedly underwent. “Do you still feel like yourself?”

“I – sort of?” He sputtered for a moment, backtracking and deciding to take control of the situation. “Who _are you_!?”

The nutcracker turned his full attention to him and bowed deeply, “Fíli. At your service.”

When he straightened, the nutcracker regarded him expectantly.

“Oh. Oh!” He shook the fog from his head. “Kíli. My name is – uh – is Kíli.”

Satisfied, the nutcracker – _Fíli_ – led him by the hand to the _should not be that gargantuan_ tree and through a forest of gold and white and shimmering red; over velvet and satin ground, deep into a world Kíli couldn’t wrap his mind around. They came upon a gathering of tittering, twinkling folk who hummed and buzzed their gratitude for Kíli who wasn’t entirely sure what they were thanking him for. All he could recall was disposing of a rat that had had the misfortune of scuttling out of its hole while Kíli was dousing the candles in the parlour.

Fíli pulled him gently forward through the crowd of _whatever they were_ (little creatures resembling confections, so unusual Kíli had nothing he could compare them to) and settled him in an ornately crafted gold chair. Fíli graced Kíli with a warm smile (Kíli winced in return) before turning his attention ahead.

Before Kíli could ask what they were doing, music began to play. It came from everywhere, no band or instruments or music box in sight, as if gifted from the air itself. Kíli watched dancers leap and twirl in flutters of ribbon and tulle. Performance after performance. It was marvelous, really, and Kíli was certain he’d appreciate it if he wasn’t so bloody confused.

He chanced a glance at Fíli beside him who was merrily enjoying the show. When he met Kíli’s eyes, the world began to spin, becoming a hazy stream of glittering white and berry red and sugary laughter. It swirled and swirled, Kíli’s breathing erratic as he tried to find something to tether himself to, until, finally, it stopped.

Kíli lurched up and immediately flung a hand out, relieved when it landed with a _smack_ on his brother’s firm, furry chest. Fíli ha-oumphed, jolted awake by the abrupt force of Kíli thwacking him as he slept.

“What – ?”

“You’re not a nutcracker!”

Fíli blinked groggily, voice sleep-rough, “ … No?”

“I dreamt you were. And I killed a rat and then you made me sit through an _entire ballet_ and … ”

Fíli groaned and tucked himself back under the covers, rolling onto his side facing away from Kíli and his frenetic energy. 

Kíli turned wild eyes on him, vowing to them both and anyone listening: “And I am **_never_** drinking Bofur’s eggnog again.”

≡


	6. What Christmas Means To Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> FíKí, Gen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for [THIS PHOTOSET](https://gatheringfiki.tumblr.com/post/189809823699/12-days-of-christmas-day-10-stories-inspired-by)

≡

Kíli loved Christmas. The music, the food, the smell of pine _everywhere_. He threw himself into it every year, taking after his mum who had always made Christmas feel special growing up. He wasn’t one of those _Start In November_ types; he was reasonable.

On the first, he’d hang the wreath. On the fourth, he’d start writing his cards. By the sixth, he was listening to the carols and kept the TV on the Hallmark Channel for their annual fluff-fest lineup. What could he say? He was a sucker for happy endings.

He never felt the pressure of the “Christmas Rush”. The anxiety of finding _the perfect present_ wasn’t something his family did. The way it’d been explained to him, after hearing about all the glorious things his classmates had received from Santa Claus, was that their family didn’t _need_ anything. They were wealthy, lived in a nice (very massive) home and could buy whatever they wanted whenever they wanted it.

Instead, they celebrated by gifting each other with their presence. With stories and laughter and ~~destroying the~~ helping in the kitchen. Kíli preferred it that way. He was horrible at gift-finding. He dreaded his friends’ birthdays and almost always copped out by offering to cook them supper and hosting a party at his place. The experience meant more.

What Kíli loved most about the holidays was his brother. Specifically, watching Fíli curl up and watch the movies he insisted he couldn’t stand. Or make the mulled wine he never drank himself but Kíli was a fan, so Fíli bought the oranges and spices and _slaved_ over a hot stove. He loved the way Fíli held his hand when they strolled through the Christmas villages and the way Fíli took nights off work to bake a gingerbread house and make homemade candles (even when it turned into a disaster of spilled wax and sprayed scent-oil, leaving the kitchen smelling of too-sweet apple pie).

Kíli also loved how they crammed together in Fíli’s childhood bedroom when they visited their family. One twin bed and a small couch that might’ve folded out into a bed but neither he nor Fíli were sure. They never bothered to investigate, happy with an excuse to cuddle together under Fíli’s old checkered duvet.

Their uncle would transform the oh-so-formal parlor into a cozy Christmas haven, equipped with crackling fire and too many themed throw pillows and never enough cookies. When the adults went to bed, Kíli and Fíli would lounge in there, their feet tangled under a blanket, trying to guess who would join them for the Big Supper the next night. Aside from the Usual Suspects, it was always a surprise.

Kíli loved Christmas because there was a magic about it that no one could deny. And this year … _this year_ , in particular, was going to be the most magical. He was horrible at gifts and a sucker for cheesy movies and arguably started hanging his Christmas Cheer up too early. But he was loved deeply and unconditionally, and it was finally time to show just _how much_ he appreciated it.

Kíli patted his pocket, smiling wider when he felt the small box still safely tucked in there. He watched with a sparkle of amusement as the man he loved tossed tinsel on the tree, hating every moment but visibly trying to look happy for Kíli, who loved Christmas and loved Fíli.

≡


	7. In The Quiet, I Found You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> FíKí, Gen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for [THIS PHOTOSET](https://gatheringfiki.tumblr.com/post/189812303457/12-days-of-christmas-day-10-bonus-fullsize-fili)

≡

At an early age, Fíli accepted that he preferred to be alone. He lives in his mind, a daydreamer, a thinker, analyzing the world quietly and from a distance. He has friends, a small handful, whose company he seeks when the aloneness tips into loneliness and he needs the interaction. But, overall, the solitude is a comfort.

He has the place for three months a year, the mountain his sanctuary. He doesn’t have much love for the job, but he appreciates what it affords him: No noise, no traffic, no gossip and stilted conversation and, most of all, no smothering crowds. It’s liberating.

Fíli is good at his job – had been thoroughly trained – is one of few who choose to live on-site in a cabin provided by the Service. Unlike others, he isn’t required to speak to visitors, most of the trails closed for the winter season.

Which is why Fíli is still perplexed by what Kíli was doing out there, by himself, in one of the lesser-traveled areas. Fíli had happened on him by chance – usually patrolling that area later in the week – near-frozen and delirious.

Kíli’s only hinted at his reasons, offering a name or a handful of words that barely make up an explanation. He deflects before Fíli can really dig deep.

Fíli isn’t concerned. He’s patient and believes in leaving a person’s demons for them to confront. He’s made it clear that he’s there to listen if Kíli ever wants to divulge himself of the weight he carries in his shoulders and on his brow.

Kíli smiled gratefully but has yet to take Fíli up on the offer.

It’s been a month since Fíli haphazardly rescued Kíli from the wilderness. A month of amiable silences and sharing space and Kíli _very obviously_ making excuses to stay. A month of Fíli somehow not finding the constant presence grating on his nerves.

He likes Kíli.

Kíli can read him. Was instantly able to. He knows when Fíli needs time to himself, to make terrible music on his guitar. Needs the freedom of walking around the cabin naked, unashamed and without judgment. Needs to talk to himself out loud or eat alone at the table so he doesn’t have to think about wayward elbows. Needs to avoid making phone calls to his mother who worries.

Needs someone to talk to.

Fíli isn’t sure when he decided to let Kíli stay. Hell, he isn’t sure it’s not against policy and could lose him the only job he’s ever enjoyed, but he lets Kíli stay all the same.

They _work_.

Hence Fíli’s trepidation as he nears the cabin. He’d gone down to the tower for the first time in two weeks, was greeted warmly by Tauriel and her homemade banana-nut muffins and endless stories about her three kids, all wanting _momma to teach us how to track bears_ despite the lack of bears in the area. Fíli listened, distracted by thoughts of how the hell he was going to win approval for this.

Tauriel reassured him that it was a good idea. Two is better than one. The Service needs more folks.

Fíli clutches the thick application folder, rehearsing what he’s going to say to Kíli when he gets in.

Kíli glances up at him from his place on the sofa, lowers the book he was reading to give Fíli his full attention, as if he knows Fíli has something to tell him before Fíli even decides if he wants to do it right that minute. Kíli’s eyes don’t give him much choice.

He holds the folder out.

Kíli raises an eyebrow and shakes his head.

“Already took care of that last week.”

Fíli’s astonished.

“Had a feeling.” Kíli shrugs to Fíli’s unasked question.

And this is why Fíli wants Kíli to stay. Kíli can read him and they _work_.

≡


	8. I'll Be There

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> FíKí, T

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for [THIS PHOTOSET](https://gatheringfiki.tumblr.com/post/189830884129/12-days-of-christmas-day-11-bonus-fullsize-fili)

≡

Fíli was fucked.

The kind of fucked someone his age shouldn’t be.

Or maybe it was more normal than he cared to know and others his age experienced _that kind of fucked_ and he was overreacting, reprimanding his perverted mind for even considering _sneaking a peek_ in that direction but, holy shit, _this is not okay, he’s a child_.

Yeah. Fíli was fucked.

The first time he noticed Kíli was earlier in the week, when Kíli’s class visited the chalet for hot chocolate and sleigh rides. Fíli had volunteered since he was Kíli’s age – a ripe old _seventeen_ (Fíli winced) – and was pleased when, this year, his uncle charged him with the horses. Massive, sleek beasts heads taller than him who lumbered through the snow as they pulled the sleigh along the trail.

Kíli had jumped on the sleigh with enthusiasm, mocked by his friends who, sure, were excited but were too cool to show it. They all took pictures of each other and themselves, laughing and making references Fíli didn’t understand.

At first, Fíli hadn’t given Kíli a second glance. He’d recognized him, having babysat him years ago, before … Before. It was a small town; everyone knew everyone and Fíli and Kíli’s families had been small-town close. But Fíli grew up and went through the high school motions and lost track of Kíli.

When Fíli laid eyes on him again, dressed ridiculously in a furry wolf-inspired sweater (ears included), Fíli didn’t see anything remarkable. He saw a goofy teenager with awkward stances and the simmering of something to prove in the things he said and the way he said them. Given Kíli's age, Fíli didn't need to make a point of _not paying special attention_ at first; he just didn't. 

The second time Kíli visited the chalet, it was already dark but not late, as it is in the wintertime. Barely four-thirty but felt like ten. He’d come straight from school, still sporting his bookbag and wearing his gym sweats. He’d sparkled at Fíli when he asked how much it cost for a ride. Two of Kíli’s friends appeared moments later, loaded gingerbread hot chocolates warming stiff hands.

The third time was less innocent on Fíli’s part. Let it be said that it _wasn’t his fault_. Kíli blew in like a warm breeze, the silly wolf-sweater making another appearance, and smiled at Fíli with the kind of unencumbered joy only someone Kíli's age could possibly possess. 

Fíli fell. Hard.

Not immediately. It was sometime during the sleigh ride; the wheels bucked over hard, lumpy soil and stone, rocking Fíli and Kíli against each other. It hadn’t snowed yet – probably wouldn’t before Christmas, which was a shame though not unheard of – so the chalet had compensated for the lack of an ‘authentic sleigh-ride experience’ by stringing the trees along the trail in spirals of glittering fairy-lights.

Kíli’s face had lit up, Fíli’s heart along with it.

And that’s when he had to admit he had no chance.

He couldn’t deny the attraction. With a spray of chocolate curls and soulful honey eyes, the kid was a snack. And a kid, Fíli reminded himself every thirty seconds when he would be helplessly pulled into Kíli’s gravity.

Kíli’s friends had abandoned him for the arcade so it was just the two of them. Sat in the front. Pressed knee to thigh. Kíli’s voice carrying on about this movie or that show. Fíli found himself was enthralled, happy to listen to anything Kíli had to say. _Shit_.

He took them through the trees and around the lake, maneuvering the horses through back-trails reserved for friends and family of chalet employees. Afterward, Kíli lingered long enough that Fíli buckled and put him to work, asking him to help strip the horses of their jingle-bell harnesses and rub them down. Halfway through his task, Kíli, without care or consideration of the inner struggle Fíli was going through, shrugged off his sweater and revealed a surprisingly athletic build – _and_ damnit _._

Kíli’s skin was glistening when they were done, and it took every ounce of restraint Fíli had in him not to pin the boy to the barn door and kiss him senseless. Maybe he was tempted because it had been awhile since he’d been intimate with anybody, or maybe it was specifically _Kíli_ who was doing it to him. Whatever it was, Fíli wanted to put as much distance between them as possible.

Which is exactly why he offered Kíli a lift home.

The next time they saw each other was Christmas Eve.

Fíli was wrapping up his shift, ready to get home to his mother who had promised a feast and a night of family raucous. He planned to be painfully hungover the following morning.

That plan didn’t change however, he did feel compelled to alter it slightly when his night took an interesting turn.

He’d taken the main road through town which passed by the local park. He wouldn’t have noticed anything if he hadn’t had to stop at the light. Movement caught his attention in the corner of his eye and, when he looked over, he noticed a lone figure in the shady lamplight, standing in the middle of the open greenspace.

Fíli’s brows shot into his hairline when he recognized who it was.

It was cold out, the bitter kind that kept everyone indoors, yet there was Kíli, hands in his pockets and nose to the sky, dressed once more in his flamboyant, furry sweater.

Fíli didn’t know what made him do it (that’s a lie, he knew exactly what made him do it): He pulled over and climbed out of his Land Rover, taking a second to figure out what the hell he was going to say. He walked toward Kíli on hesitant feet. And then he stopped. Between watching his step and looking up to make sure he was headed in the right direction, Kíli had started _dancing_. Hips and shoulders and dips and sways, as if he were performing for an audience of more than one.

It took Kíli almost two minutes before he noticed Fíli, standing in awe a few feet away. They stared at each other, Fíli feeling increasingly nervous as Kíli’s eyes openly roamed the expanse of Fíli's and a sultry grin pulled his lips. 

Jesus, the kid had a smolder and knew how to wield it.

Kíli didn't seem embarrassed in the slightest about being caught in a private moment. In fact, he held out a hand in silent invitation, summoning Fíli to him with the slow travel of a pink tongue along a plump lower lip.

Fíli groaned to himself and told himself to _ignore it_ because pursuing it could result in arrest and that wasn't a compelling future. 

Fíli found himself with Kíli’s arms around his neck and Kíli’s body flush against his, Kíli’s breath tickling his bearded chin, and no idea how he got there.

If he squinted, Fíli could imagine Kíli was older; the kid had stubble and a sharp jaw and somewhat looked older than he was and, yes, Fíli would keep telling himself that because it was comforting, and he wasn’t a perve.

Kíli led them in an impromptu slow dance, Fíli following like there was nowhere else he’d rather be. Until he remembered there _was_ somewhere else he was _obligated_ to be on threat of death. Regretfully, he forced Kíli still.

“I … have to go.” Fíli said, unable to meet Kíli’s gaze. He couldn’t risk falling into them, knowing he’d never find the strength to crawl out.

“Right.” Kíli smiled, “Christmas Eve.”

Fíli needed to end this, to walk away, “Want to come? I know Christmas can be tough.”

 _Good job_.

The happiness Kíli radiated was enough to make Fíli smother the little voice in his head. It was the right thing to do, he justified, no one should be alone on Christmas and Kíli’s foster family wasn’t great. Not bad. Just not as attentive as they should’ve been.

“Really?”

“Really. But I warn you,” Fíli said in his most _serious_ tone, “My mum might try and adopt you.”

“Nah, I can’t let that happen.”

“Oh? And why’s that? I’ll have you know my mother is a wonderful woman.” Fíli argued, a smirk in his voice.

Kíli gave him a sly grin, lids heavy and eyes glittering with mischief, “I’m sure she is but I would think it’d be wrong to try and fuck my brother, wouldn’t it?”

Fíli choked on whatever words he was going to say in response. _Nothing_ could’ve have prepared him for that honesty.

“I – What?”

Fucked.

Fíli was absolutely, spectacularly, beautifully _fucked_.

≡


	9. The Grinch In Us

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> DarkHawk, Gen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for [THIS PHOTOSET](https://gatheringfiki.tumblr.com/post/189845887778/12-days-of-christmas-day-12-bonus-fullsize-fili)

≡

Ross met him ten years ago. Two bah-humbugs surrounded by lights and seasonal music and sloppy festive cheer. They’d been at their mutual friend’s Pseudo-Christmas party, thrown to bring together those with no family to go home to, because all the Hallmark movies say: _No one should be alone on Christmas_. As if those who spent the holiday alone would be cursed or wake up disfigured or suffer some horrific fate.

Ross had scoffed at the idea but attended, nonetheless. Demelza was going because Handsome Hugh was going which meant Ross had to go. As Demelza had explained to Ross, she needed the company should her night not go as planned.

The ambiance had been too merry, there was not nearly enough drink, and Ross had been miserable. He’d sat on the sofa, purposefully wedged between Demelza and Hugh so that he could brood to an audience. It was as Demelza was about to start fussing that it had happened. The moment Ross’ knees had been bumped into and he’d been promptly (and thoroughly) spilled on.

When Ross had looked up, his eyes locked with the stranger’s, the air had shifted, and his life thereafter had changed in all the ways he believed it never would.

≈

Despite the distance their respective lives thrust between them, Ross and Jim, always and without fail, made time for one another at Christmas. They would fly back to their university town from wherever in the world their jobs had swept them away to, and they would wade through the holiday chaos together, shoulder-to-shoulder, like soldiers in the trenches.

Jim made the holidays bearable because, like Ross, he couldn’t stand them. It hadn’t been hard to convince Jim to ignore the celebrations altogether; pretend Christmas wasn’t happening. The first year they’d banded together against Christmas, they’d gone too far in the opposite direction. Horror movies and a crude Santa dart board, reindeer piñatas, too much vodka and not enough Anti-Christmas themed snacks.

Partway through the night, when they’d heaped on the floor, Jim had slurred the truth. They’re minds had still been on Christmas, they’d let it into the sanctuary of Jim’s apartment where they’d each promised not to drag it in, as if it had been stuck to the bottom of Ross’ shoe when he’d entered.

The following year was much less dramatic and far more fun. It was the year he and Jim properly ignored Christmas with take-away and a sci-fi marathon. The year neither noticed the holiday come and go, the year they made it feel like it was just another day in the sequence of days, nothing special, no emphasized meaning, no messiah’s birthday to celebrate.

It was also the year he and Jim slept together and didn’t stop until classes started up again.

From that point forward, they had their own Christmas tradition (which, thinking about it, Ross supposed was counter-intuitive to their original idea of _ignoring Christmas_ since their tradition was, in a way, a _Christmas_ tradition … but he didn’t like to think too deeply about that).

It was possible, Ross had realized once, that in their shared bitterness towards Christmas, they might’ve been inadvertently helping the other heal … 

Still, no matter how many years passed and how many weeks they’d spend wrapped around and thrust inside each other, neither suddenly had an epiphany and began to enjoy the season. They each had their reasons; discussed once, their third year, and then put to bed with the vow that the other was there to listen but wouldn’t pry. Ross didn’t like to let his mind linger on his reasons; he allowed those reasons to ruin other, less important, days of the year. Like August 23rd or May 6th.

Now, Ross and Jim weren’t Grinches through and through. There was one Christmas-specific tradition they both had confessed to seeing the potential in. It was _cute_ – and Ross didn’t use that word lightly. Perhaps it was _cute_ because Jim made it so or because of what it meant, Ross wasn’t sure, and he didn’t want to dissect it. If he was going to genuinely like something about Christmas, he didn’t want to ruin it by overthinking.

Every year, on the first day of their reunion, they would meet at the row of iconic red telephone booths beside their old campus. One of those booths had seen too much of them in their second year and Ross made a point of telling Jim to meet him there when it was time.

Jim would slink up to Ross, hands behind his back, and his face would split into a cheeky grin, as if he were hiding something particularly naughty. After the first time, the surprise no longer a _real_ surprise, Ross would pretend: He’d ask Jim the question with a furrow of his brow ( _what’ve you got their, you buggar?_ ) and would remain where he was stood, forcing Jim to come to him.

Once Jim was close enough to feel the warmth of Ross’ body, he would present what was behind his back like a magician producing flowers from the tip of his wand: _Ta-da!_

A bunch of mistletoe delicately fastened with a fine red ribbon.

If they were going to have one Christmas-specific tradition, it was going to be the one with the silly superstition that forced them to lock lips. Ross was never averse to kissing Jim, the excuse wasn’t necessary, but they’d both agreed it was tolerable and had made it their own.

A sweet prelude to their first kiss of the year.

Neither of them enjoyed Christmas and it was unlikely that they ever would. However, mistletoe, Ross thought, was a step in some sort of direction, gave him something to look forward to, something to chuckle at when he would reminisce in the months to follow. They would never exchange gifts nor admire the decorations like they were made of magic; they’d never fawn over the movies or sing along to the music.

They’d always deeply abhor carolers.

No. They’d never stop doing things their way: Take-away and sci-fi and nakedness.

On his way to meet Jim, remembering Jim’s laughter and hums and sex-fueled screams, Ross had to grudgingly admit that, fine: Maybe Christmas wasn’t such a crock of shit after all …

≡


	10. Be Alright

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> FíKí, T

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for [THIS PHOTOSET](https://gatheringfiki.tumblr.com/post/189848146354/12-days-of-christmas-day-12-bonus-fullsize-fili)

≡

Fíli found himself with his head in his hand, elbow propped on the sticky tabletop, staring sightlessly as the foam-head dissipated into a thin line of white on amber. He wasn’t thirsty. Hadn’t wanted to come out but never had a choice where Kíli was involved. He would follow his brother into the depths of Hell if Kíli so much as _suggested_ it; a self-destructive loyalty tinged with protectiveness (or was it possessive? Fíli couldn’t discern the two anymore, the line so blurred it was practically invisible).

This was their third night out that week. Kíli claimed he felt stifled after work and wanted to unwind. Really, Fíli knew, Kíli needed the relief of fluttering his social wings between new people, new conversations, new experiences. Kíli wasn’t still; he always vibrated, his seams threatening to burst with barely-contained energy.

Fíli was his perfect opposite. Solitary by nature; reserved and contemplative and hard to read which, according to Kíli, made him unapproachable. Unlike his brother, Fíli wasn’t comfortable opening himself to those who couldn’t be damned to make a real effort to peel back his layers, of which, he modestly admitted, he had many.

There was a secret, devastating and impossible, at his core. One that not even Kíli knew. And he would keep it that way for as long as he could because he needed Kíli like he needed air to breathe. If Kíli ever discovered what Fíli kept hidden … Fíli would lose the only person who knew him as completely and totally as Kíli. Who loved him with without question or demand.

Fíli hated himself for allowing things to twist, sick and wicked, the way they had inside him.

Kíli could never know how desperately Fíli wanted him. Loved him. In all the ways older brothers shouldn’t love younger brothers.

Fíli was broken and the only person who could fix him would never forgive Fíli if Fíli revealed his truth.

So he buried it beneath supportive smiles and inside jokes and tried to make it to tomorrow when, maybe, he’d find the courage to confess.

∞

It was a stupidly egregious gesture on Fíli’s part. Still, when those sun-bright smiles were turned on him, Fíli couldn’t find it within himself to regret it.

He’d bought Kíli a café. For cats. Well, people who wanted to drink their coffee and cuddle a kitten like they did in Japan. Kíli had read about it somewhere and jumped onto the bandwagon with the vigor Kíli was famous for. Kíli went so far as to switch programs and study business, traveling every avenue that led him closer to making his dream reality.

Fíli met him halfway and invested his savings, every penny, into funding Kíli’s future.

Fíli handled the coffees while Kíli handled the cats. They worked beautifully together, a lifetime of ebb-and-flow between them making the everyday runnings of the café smooth.

Fíli would grit his teeth and tell himself he was satisfied whenever he was forced to watch Kíli flirt with some of their patrons. He was fine. He _would be fine_. It was never serious, Kíli too free-spirited for commitment, which made it possible for Fíli to hide behind his beliefs.

Of course, he wasn’t an idiot. Eventually, Kíli would mellow and want the thing the majority of the world wanted and would meet someone who loved Kíli with everything they had, and it wouldn’t be Fíli.

 _It couldn’t be Fíli_.

Fíli would just have to learn how to live with a broken heart.

∞

There were _instances_ – lingering touches, slower smiles, invasions of way-too-intimate personal space – that Fíli recorded to replay later, when he was alone with his perversion and privacy. Kíli didn’t know what he was doing, Fíli told himself, but the actions fueled Fíli’s desires until the fire that burned in him threatened to consume every rational thought he had left.

One night-turned-morning, after watching Kíli stumble into whiskey-charged kisses with his third stranger of the month, Fíli had had enough. The gutted feeling of betrayal was uncalled for, Fíli understood, logically, but nothing about his situation was logical to begin with and having to witness the slurred display unravel in front of his eyes was too fucking much.

He stormed out of the pub, forgetting his jacket and his tab, and raged silently to his car. _Their_ car, actually, except the nights Kíli couldn’t be arsed to be _designated driver_. Which, yes, was every night he dragged Fíli out.

Fíli drove home, welcomed by a bottle of tequila, no lime, and tried to seethe his feelings away. Anger made the sting of reality easier to confront. But it never lasted. How could it when Kíli finally tumbled through the door on jelly-legs, slouched out of his coat and boots and slammed himself into Fíli’s arms, all confused speech and wild eyes.

Fíli would never forget the sensation of Kíli’s lips as they pressed against his, the heat that surged through him when Kíli thrust his tongue into Fíli’s mouth to thoroughly explore –

– the emptiness that knocked the breath from Fíli’s lungs when Kíli didn’t remember the following morning.

∞

It was in a moment, a fraction of a second, just after Christmas dinner, that Fíli decided he was going to leave. Pack his bags and escape. Some could call it _running away_ but he didn’t give a fuck anymore. Fíli missed the unencumbered, tumultuous freedom of _feeling things_ ; feeling more than forcefully dampened lust and unrequited love – the _love-in-that-way_ he sought in the _very wrong place_.

He’d become numb and couldn’t stand it.

Kíli begged him not to go, confused and teetering between tempestuous fury and quiet tears. He asked why; was it something Kíli had done? Said? _Didn’t_ say? Was it about Kíli’s new boyfriend?

 _It’s not_ , Fíli assured him, his voice tattered as he removed his arm from his brother’s grip.

It was the fucking _tease_ of his love being halfway attainable; a thorn in his heart that would kill him if he stayed.

Kíli pleaded with those misty doe-eyes that had always collapsed Fíli’s resolution.

Fíli wanted to be selfish. Wanted to make Kíli _see him_ , wanted to have Kíli in every way the universe wouldn’t allow. But that meant stealing everything from Kíli and Fíli was no thief.

Fíli trembled when he walked out the door, bag thrown over his shoulder, carrying a weight so heavy he felt his heart breaking under the pressure.

He didn’t look back.

∞

Fíli knew the only way to free himself was to tell Kíli.

Being away from his brother was torture. Fíli missed him. But he couldn’t go back. Not yet. He wasn’t prepared to deal with the affection he would see exchanged openly between the man he loved and the man that man loved more. He didn’t want to break so completely he would never find a way to put himself back together.

He would return to Kíli, some impossible day in the future.

Maybe.

When he was brave enough.

≡


	11. I Wonder As I Wander

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> FíKí, T

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for [THIS PHOTOSET](https://gatheringfiki.tumblr.com/post/189666451219/12-days-of-christmas-day-2-bonus-fullsize-fili)

** Introduction **  
  
---  
  
**'Tis** known, though not by many, that there exists a vast eternity of worlds. Worlds above and below and all around. Worlds that float in the creases of memory, just outside the corner of a glance; in shadow and the in-between. Bleak worlds where laughter is never heard and some spectacularly bright. Worlds ruled by creatures with the bodies of one thing and heads of another, stitched together by myth.

Endless possibilities and places, sprouted from every _What If_ and _Could Have Been_.

All this infiniteness meets neatly in the Crossroads of the Realms. Each stream of dust and light and life converging in a single place that so few have heard whisper or rumor of, it is believed it doesn’t exist at all. 

But exist it does, and thankfully so, or this tale would have ended before it had a chance to begin …

** Once Upon A Time **  
  
---  
  
**Our** story begins in a time of transition and hope; in a kingdom, in a mountain, cradled in the center of a world called Arda.

There had, not too long ago, ruled a mad king who had neglected his duties. Instead, he was fixated on gathering spells and assurances to return his dead queen from the After. But it could not be, no matter who said what, and so he sunk further into his grief. Following many long, weary years, he lay himself down and took the Endless Sleep, leaving in his stead his grandson to undo the ill the mad king had inflicted upon his kingdom.

When the new king took the throne, he swore to his people that he would return the prosperity and splendor the kingdom once knew.

And so it was.

But soon, the new king’s promise became obsession.

Despite all he achieved, the new king sought more. Over the years, the new king heard tales of a heart so pure it shone like the stars and gifted they who held it respite from pain and sickness and death. No challenger would be able to defeat the holder nor their armies, nor argue the holder’s divine right to wear the crown – one or all.

The new king took his sister-sons on a quest to find this pure heart, over mountains and through forests, until – at last – they found it. The heart was caged in the chest of a woman who slept peacefully on a bed of moss. She was beautiful and ageless, with skin that shimmered like snow under moonlight. At once, the new king’s sister-sons realized they had made a terrible mistake.

Yet the new king could not be swayed.

With his sharpest blade, the new king cut the woman’s heart from her chest and returned to his kingdom where he displayed it above his throne, so that those who thought to oppose him may gaze upon it and know, before they managed a word, that they held no power over him.

For awhile, the possession of the pure heart seemed to quell the new king and he ruled contentedly.

But _awhile_ is not _forever_ and the peace the heart yielded was eventually ended.

The woman whose heart the new king had stolen came seeking it. She was twisted and cracked and had aged many years in the time since her heart was removed. She stood before the new king and demanded he return it lest she be forced to take something equally as precious.

The new king denied her. Thus, without hesitation, she gathered one of his sister-sons for her own, to fill the hole where her heart had been. And it is here where our tale truly takes shape …

** Part One **  
  
---  
  
**"Kíli** , no!” Fíli shouted and charged past his uncle who stood stoic on the dais.

Somehow, in the blink of an eye, Kíli had vanished from Fíli’s side and manifested again in the middle of the Hall of Kings, imprisoned in a thick glass sphere magicked from nothingness. Within, an unearthly storm raged; snow whipped and flurried and beat Kíli to his knees.

With waning strength, Kíli pounded against the seamless arc barrier, screaming what Fíli knew without a doubt was his name.

“Let him go!”

The witch studied Fíli for a moment before she asked, “Do you love him?”

“More than anything.”

Her smile, a slimy, unnatural thing, made Fíli sick. She already seemed to have regained some of her youth and Fíli didn’t want to consider where she was drawing those years from.

“Then,” She said in a slippery voice, “He is perfect.”

Fíli’s eyes widened. “No! You can’t take him!”

He rushed the glass, sword drawn. When he brought the blade down, the metal shattered like ash. The shock ricocheted through him, shuddering in his bones, making his teeth chatter and head spin. The glass remained entirely intact.

The witch cackled and grabbed him by his hair, yanking him backward and forcing his back to arch until he was almost folded half the wrong way. Holding him tightly at his nape, nails dug into his skin, she bore into him. The intensity behind her eyes stole the breath from Fíli’s lungs.

“You have no voice here, little prince. Your brother is mine. Your king has made it so.”

The Hall trembled under her power; shadows swelled and stone crumbled. No matter how this ended, Fíli only cared for one thing. 

“I will find him.” Fíli swore through gritted teeth. “Wherever you take him, I will follow.”

“You can _try_.”

She released Fíli, tossing him to the side like some raggedy plaything. Before he could find his feet, the witch burst into a thousand too-bright shards. The sphere exploded not a moment after and the storm within rushed the Hall – a tempest of biting snow and glass. Fíli winced, holding a hand up to protect his face. Where Kíli had been a solid body, there was now a spiral of frenzied white, gathering and letting out erratically.

“I will find you!” Fíli swore into squall, straining to be heard over the roaring noise.

When the chaos settled, Kíli and the witch were gone.

An icy damp chilled Fíli’s skin as he knelt in the aftermath; a mound of snow and glass all that remained of his brother and the hell-creature who snatched him. Fíli willed his mind to find reason in what had just happened, but there was none to be found.

 _Kíli_.

Fíli felt his uncle loom behind him; a calloused, heavy dark in his presence where once Fíli could trust he’d find tenderness and reassurance. Thorin rested a hand on Fíli’s shoulder though there was no comfort in the gesture.

“One day, you will understand.” Thorin said.

Rage roiled within Fíli, making it impossible to answer. A thundering of too many feelings at once stung his eyes and his fists shook on his thighs. Somehow, he remained still, allowing Thorin to walk himself back to his throne and to his madness.

∞

Thorin lied about the encounter with the witch, about what happened to Kíli. Claimed Kíli was killed during the altercation: Nothing could be done, his wounds were too severe and, _no, sister, you should not see him in such a state. Remember him as he was: Young and beautiful_ _and alive_.

Fíli’s throat burned when he remembered how heartlessness it was.

Still, he didn’t dare speak against his uncle. He couldn’t very well go after his brother if he was jailed or, worse, executed. Despite being Thorin’s heir, Fíli was no longer sure he was exempt from Thorin’s indifference and cruelty. As king, Thorin had already put too many to torture for little more than sassing a member of the court.

He was gone, the man Fíli called _uncle_ , and he was unlikely to return.

A week had passed since Kíli’s taking in the Hall of Kings. A week of studying maps and collecting rations under his uncle’s nose. A week of preparing to depart without anyone noticing. A week of watching his mother wilt and her brightness dull. Throughout, Fíli bit his tongue and forcibly ignored his uncle’s ravings about how _I, the king, sent the witch scurrying away with her tail between her legs, ne’er to return_.

Fíli had a plan and he was ready to get it underway. Thorin was distracted with his duties in council and the feast to be held in Kíli’s honor (Fíli resisted the hate that threatened to overcome him); there would be no better time.

His mother was staring sightlessly out of her window, blanket draped over her lap, though Fíli was sure she felt neither warmth nor cold in her grief. He took a knee beside her and cradled one of her hands in both of his, resting his brow against them.

“I’ll bring him back, Amad.”

His mother turned to rest her misty gaze on him, her voice shallow, “You cannot raise the dead, my son.” 

Fíli took a deep, settling breath. “I do not intend to.” And he swept himself onto his feet and marched from her chambers before she could see his anger.

** In A Land Far, Far Away **  
  
---  
  
**The** young prince began at the beginning: In the forest where he and his uncle-king and his brother had stumbled upon the woman whose heart they stole. Her bed of moss was empty and dead, the trees circling it petrified and black. Wherever she had taken her prize, it was not there.

The young prince traveled through swampland and tall grass and forest. Into the belly of mountains and out again – not always unscathed. He found refuge in the kindness of a Beast and his bees during a savage rain, and easier travel on the back of an Eagle after he helped it loose from a trap crafted by ambitious Goblins.

Woefully, there surfaced not a hint of his brother.

Nevertheless, the young prince wouldn’t falter; he would search all of Arda if he had to.

It was in the fourth month of his journey, when he was feeling particularly low and near defeat, that the young prince heard it. Well, _heard_ is not exactly right: He _felt_ it. A song with dips and highs and clever strings washed over him, gliding over his senses like silk over skin. It was soft and faraway and when the young prince tried to concentrate, it slipped as water through the shadows of dreams.

The young prince knew with everything that made him that it was his brother.

As soon as the song started in his mind, a small flit-fluttering streaked from the trees and dipped and swirled above his head, grabbing his attention quite deliberately. It swooped back and forth, into and out from the forest, urging him to his feet. A cardinal, the young prince marveled, was rare in parts that far North.

Curious, he followed.

Before long, he was greeted by a strange sight. A tall man with a thick, white beard and ancient eyes stood in the center of a circle of toadstools. He had a gentleness about him that the young prince was grateful for.

This man, the young prince was sure, was going to help him.

** Part Two **  
  
---  
  
**Fíli** frowned, looking the man up and down inquisitively. There was a peculiarity to him that Fíli couldn’t put his finger on. Something that made Fíli think he was more than one of the Men he’d met in the months he’d been traveling.

“Who are you?” Fíli asked, hand hovering over the handle of his sword.

The man leveled him with a stare before answering, “I am Gandalf. And this – ” He gestured to the cardinal that had perched itself on the tip of his staff, “ – is Verling. He believes you are in need of some guidance.”

Fíli shifted from one foot to the other, eyes darting around as he thought of how to respond to such an unusual introduction. A cardinal wasn’t exactly a creature that _believed things_.

Unable to keep the question to himself, he blurted, “ _What_ are you?” completely eradicating any sense of princely decorum he may have had.

Again, the man paused for an uncomfortable moment before stating rather flatly, “I’m a Wizard.”

“A Wiz— … ” Fíli shook the surprise from his head. “And you’re going to help me?”

“Yes.” The Wizard – Gandalf – was overtly exasperated. “It seems I am.”

While he wasn’t opposed to assistance of any kind at that point, Fíli couldn’t help but wonder, “ _Why_?”

“Because it seems, Master Dwarf, that you cannot help yourself.”

Fíli couldn’t argue.

“Do you know the woman who took my brother?”

A shadow settled over Gandalf and a low noise rumbled from his throat. Whoever the woman was, she was no friend of his.

“She is a Silmaril Witch. One who you should never have crossed.”

“That was not my choice!” Fíli said roughly. “Do you know where she has taken Kíli?!”

“It is difficult to say. Witches of her ilk can walk the Crossroads of the Realms. She may still be here or … ” Gandalf scanned the skies as if to read the clouds, “She may be somewhere else entirely.”

 _Very helpful_.

“The Crossroads of the Realms isn’t real.”

Gandalf didn’t bother replying, simply looked at Fíli then looked ahead with narrowed eyes. He strode forward, his steps long and sure, in a direction Fíli assumed was the _right way_. They walked without sharing a word until sundown, when Gandalf didn’t so much _ask_ as _silently command_ Fíli to build them a fire.

As he relaxed into his roll, Fíli’s curiosity outweighed his desire to maintain the amicable not-being-condescended-to-ness he and Gandalf had erected between them.

“What _is_ a Silmaril Witch?”

“For someone so committed to finding his lost brother, you didn’t do much to understand who took him. Now,” Gandalf leaned back against the large root of a tree, “We have a long way to go and hardly the time to go it. Rest. We leave at dawn.”

∞

Gandalf, Fíli decided, was mad.

They stood on a precipice with nothing ahead of them but blustering wind, and emptiness below. Gandalf was resolute and insisted they stay there so long that Fíli wasn’t sure his hands or ears or nose remained. His extremities were numb to the point of likely having cracked off without his noticing, and his beard was frosted white. That damned cardinal had had some sense, staying behind under the sun in the lush forest green.

“Are you sure?” Fíli asked again. His tongue felt heavy and his lips swollen.

“Quiet.” Gandalf barked, “It will happen soon enough.”

And happen it graciously did.

If Fíli could feel more than the cold, he would have been filled with amazement at the sight. When the moon rose to the peak of one of the many surrounding summits, a pulse of colorful aurora-light swept the vast northlands. It spread across all Fíli could see and then, unexpectedly, gathered itself into a teensy pinprick ball, hovering close to where he and Gandalf stood. It twinkled, the light somehow warming Fíli’s cheeks.

Fíli regarded it, ready with another in a series of questions, but was interrupted before he could open his mouth. The light flared again, erupting every which way and brought into existence a bridge that opened at Fíli’s feet. In the distance, at the other end, Fíli saw nothing. He didn’t have time to wonder what it meant since, in a snap, the light retreated, sinking into the tip of a spire (that surely hadn’t been there before Fíli blinked) and spreading outward again, its magic revealing a city of white marble and snow, vibrant and splendorous across the bridge.

Fíli gasped. A whole city, gone and then there!

“Where did – … _how is this possible_?”

“The Fae are a mysterious breed, Master Dwarf.” Gandalf sounded pleased with himself, “Their magic is as old as the Lamps themselves. I suggest you stay close.” And with that, Gandalf – who was somehow completely unaffected by the harsh cold (though perhaps moving slightly more stiffly) – forged ahead, Fíli close at his back.

∞

The Fae were, indeed, a mysterious breed. As the city had been difficult to find, existing just out of sight, so were the creatures who inhabited it. When Fíli was able to catch sight of one, he was lumbered by pools of deep onyx that trailed him as he moved along the path behind Gandalf. They were shorter than Dwarves, slenderer too, and their skin was so pale Fíli didn’t believe they’d ever seen sunlight. 

Somehow Gandalf managed to wrangle them an audience with the King of the Fae who was openly vexed at having the Wizard in his realm, never mind _right there_ at the foot of the wide, ornately decorated dais his throne sat upon. Fíli could sympathize.

“No.” The King said, trying to make their exchange quick. “I cannot do that. It is not within my power. Now,” He waved a dismissive hand, “Go away.”

Gandalf wasn’t deterred. As he was about to speak again, Fíli stepped forward.

“Please, Sire. My brother was stolen from our home and I mean to get him back. I will do anything – _anything_ – to see him returned safely.” 

The King stayed silent though his expression softened somewhat, to Fíli’s relief.

“I wish only to access the Caves of Names so that I may search for him.”

“Would you even know _where_ to begin, boy?” The King inquired, raising a patronizing eyebrow.

Fíli stuttered, obviously not having thought of how immense something like the Cave of Names would be. “I – no. But with your help I’m sure – ”

“ _No_.”

Fíli deflated for a tick, but he rallied and mustered the courage to take a step toward the dais. Fist over his heart and determination in his eyes, he wasn’t giving up without a fight. _For Kíli_. 

“I – ”

“I have sweeties.” Gandalf offered.

Fíli’s mouth snapped shut, stunned. He remained facing the King while his eyes flitted urgently to Gandalf. Because offering a king – any king – _candy_ as a means to secure entry to one of the most sacred places in the whole of Eä was … _was absurd_.

Fíli was further perplexed when the King seemed to seriously consider Gandalf’s offer.

“No.” The King made up his mind at last. “I cannot help you. I am sorry. Now leave before I am forced to have you removed.”

“Sweeties!?” Fíli demanded when they were out of earshot of the guards who’d escorted them past the palace gates. “You thought _sweeties_ would persuade him to let me enter somewhere as enormously important as The Cave of Names!?”

“I told you, Fíli: The Fae aren’t like the creatures you know. They aren’t of your world, nor are they of any other. Ridiculous as it may be, they appreciate things as common as sweeties; they’re hard to come by in these parts. Besides,” Gandalf explained, “The King usually enjoys them.”

He sounded distracted. Fíli chased his gaze and met with the sight of a young female Fae, hooded and dressed in beaded white robes. He recognized her from the throne room. She’d been among the councilmen and courtwomen.

“It seems it doesn’t matter, Master Dwarf. Help may yet come in another form.”

“I wish you’d just _say things_ as they’re meant to be said.”

“Nonsense. How would you get anything done properly if you didn’t have to consider it carefully first?”

“A lot faster.” Fíli sighed and followed Gandalf as Gandalf followed the Faerie out of the street and around a corner.

∞

She led them down a steep and tapered path behind the palace. Fíli slipped several times over the icy crags and was astonished to see the Faerie move with all the grace of a dancer. She was fast to reach her destination and disappeared abruptly behind a large boulder.

Fíli and Gandalf maneuvered more cautiously. Eventually, they arrived at a crevice that yawned wide and high. It was whipped and beaten smooth by a dozen ages of harsh weather and, when Fíli stepped inside, he saw that it was as deep as it was massive.

Light. Everything the Fae did, they did with light, Fíli was coming to realize. An eerie blue beckoned him downward, the path at last shaping into proper stairs as he descended. He was greeted by a wet heat and the sight of the Faerie waiting regally in the middle of a ring of large stones that appeared to come from somewhere else. There was a strong magic emanating from them; Fíli’s soul stammered under the pressure of it.

She turned to them and lowered her hood. Fíli staggered back, shocked, and fumbled for his sword.

“It’s her!” He cried but the strength of his voice was muffled by the magic permeating the cave.

“No.” The Faerie assured him calmly. “Though I understand your confusion.”

Opal eyes and skin that glittered like ripples of water under moonlight …

“A twin, then!” Fíli accused.

“In a way, I suppose.”

Her patience was infuriating. 

“I wish to help you, young prince. My father’s refusal was … unfair.”

“So why did he? Refuse?” Fíli’s brow knitted. He prowled a slow circle around her, hand still poised to unsheathe his sword should he need to.

“He doesn’t like your Wizard.”

Gandalf harrumphed somewhere over Fíli’s shoulder. 

“And why should I trust you?”

“Why did you trust him?” The Faerie motioned to Gandalf.

“We all make mistakes.”

She dipped her head and smiled. Rising again, she explained, “Hear me. Where your brother is, he doesn’t belong. I merely hope to restore balance. You can either trust me or continue to look everywhere he isn’t.”

 _Kíli_ …

“Do what you need to. Just get me to my brother.”

“So be it.”

In a sharp flash, the Faerie struck Fíli’s chest with her palm. Worlds opened behind his closed eyes, shapes of things he never could have imagined himself coming into focus and then swept away like sand in the wind.

All Fíli knew thereafter was the weightless sensation of falling before he was claimed by utter black.

** There Lived A Prince… **  
  
---  
  
**The** fae-witch set the conditions under which she would help the young prince.

Once a year, on the twelfth day of the twelfth month, when her magic was strongest and the veils between worlds was thinnest, she would reveal for him the doorway to the Crossroads of the Realms. Howbeit, she could grant the young prince no more than twelve days in whichever world he chose to rove in search of his lost brother.

The young prince agreed to her terms and was thrust through the doorway and along many pathways that had their roots in the Crossroads.

For eleven years, the young prince wandered. For eleven years, he failed.

Despite his failure, his hope never waned: The young prince would persevere until his last breath. Never would he surrender his brother.

Finally, on the twelfth day of the twelfth month in his twelfth year of searching, the heartsong beckoned him through his last doorway. As soon as the young prince entered the new world, he felt his brother’s presence caress him.

But things are not always as simple as they seem …

** Part Three **

**Kíli** stood under the twinkling fairylights strung crisscross and everywhichway above the courtyard. He’d been preened and pampered, dressed handsomely in black silk and white cotton, and paraded before his Mistress’ band of fat, well-to-do men and their sparkling women all evening until, finally, his Mistress had declared the party a bore and announced they should return home.

He closed his eyes, fingertips gentling the neck of his violin in restrained anticipation, reveling in this rare moment alone.

His Mistress treated him well; doted him with the newest clockwork trinkets and toys. Lately, Kíli wondered if these gifts were meant to shut him up. To mollify his curious mind, his want for answers. She loathed his questions – deflected or ignored him altogether; if he caught her in a mood, she punished him using nails and teeth and rough kisses.

She would apologize. Kíli would forgive despite a hushed yet insistent voice screaming that it was _wrong wrong wrong, don’t! Flee, run, escape!_ He could never make sense of those thoughts. Because he loved his Mistress and his Mistress loved him and they’d been together for …

He wasn’t sure.

But it must have been a long time for her to love him as she did.

Sometimes Kíli wondered if _everyone_ struggled to recall things. The years behind him were grainy, elusive. Whenever he tried to focus, the images his mind conjured wouldn’t stay still. His dreams felt more real to him than the memories his Mistress fed him. Dreams of a man with golden hair and leonine eyes and a passion so fierce, it consumed Kíli, lingering into those blissful, lazy junctures between sleep and wakefulness. 

Kíli hoped that, somewhere out there, the man existed if only so they could meet, even once.

Kíli lifted his violin to rest snugly between his chin and shoulder. His mind emptied, arms loosened, and he drifted as the music came to life through his hands: Affection and devotion, joy and warmth, a hint of melancholy at the edges of a song he had no memory learning. 

_One day,_ he thought, _you will find me._

∞

The heartsong was a finicky compass but remained steadfast, following the impressions of the witch’s left-behind magic. Elven worlds where she and Kíli had been and gone. Eleven worlds where Fíli had heard the melody, each note a breadcrumb leading him closer to his brother.

Fíli rose from the crouch he stumbled into after being thrust through the portal. It never got easier, like being dragged underwater against the charge of the current. He heaved and coughed, blinked the dizzying spots from his eyes. The portal had deposited him in an alleyway under thick shadows for which he was grateful.

Discretion wasn’t always guaranteed …

Falling against the side of the building at his back, Fíli allowed himself a moment to asses any changes. The sometimes-transformation was incredibly disagreeable in the first few moments after it happened and now was no exception: Fíli ached, his body stretched lean, the bulk of his muscles lighter. In this foreign world, he was the height of a Man – if on the shorter side – and, should he catch his reflection, he knew he wouldn’t recognize himself; beard trimmed, and wild mane of hair close-cut.

Fíli smoothed his hands over his arms and chest, fingertips scratching along the fabric that made a prim three-piece suit (a fashion he’d worn in a previous world). His shoes were glossy black and narrower than he preferred, and the starched white collar of his shirt buttoned just a little too constrictively around his neck. Straightening and searching his pockets, he breathed a sigh of relief when his left hand curled around the object that he’d carried with him since the fist day of his venture.

Satisfied he had everything he needed, Fíli closed his eyes, as he had done eleven times before, and listened.

∞

The music felt different that night as it thrummed through his veins. With every sweep and pull, Kíli came more to life. The stickiness in his mind began to recede. He played and played until the song ended and then began again, the compulsion to _don’t stop, guide me, let me find you –_ resonating in every heartbeat.

He was utterly devoured by sensation.

∞

Fíli ran, hardly bothering to take in his surroundings. He caught glimpses of brass and gold, gears and cogs and steam working everything that made the city around him. Electricity buzzed through lines and lit the cobblestone streets in amber.

He dodged another lamppost, calling an apology over his shoulder to a prim woman and her dog, out for an evening stroll. Fíli wasn’t going to stop. _Couldn’t_ stop if he wanted to. His soul was summoned, pulled forward as if by threads, and Fíli didn’t have the mind to question it as his legs pumped under him.

The heartsong became louder, clearer, closer.

 _Kíli_ , _don’t stop, please, I’m almost with you …_

∞

A rustling from the end of garden was obtrusive enough to distract Kíli from continuing. He peered into the dark, frowning when he saw the silhouette of a figure emerge from between the bushes. There was no fence, no wall, nothing aside from the line of twigs and leaves to prevent intruders from sneaking into the garden and it seemed that this stranger had taken advantage of that.

“Hello?” Kíli said to the shadows, watching the figure carefully should he mean Kíli harm. He might not have much of a memory but Kíli wasn’t useless. He knew how to defend himself. 

∞

Fíli couldn’t breathe. His brother, his Kíli, was _right there_ , beautiful under the canopy of glittering lights. He stood proud and tall, his hair in playful curls and his scruff shaved away. Fíli resisted the urge to clutch his chest, his heart pounding an unsteady rhythm against his ribs, his pulse rushing in his ears, making it impossible to think straight.

He never really considered what he’d do or say when he finally found Kíli. Just knew he wanted his brother back in his arms where he belonged. Who cared about words and fluff when they would have each other again?

But right then, he felt he should’ve rehearsed _something_ to emphasize the significance of their reunion.

Fíli emerged into the courtyard’s dim light, revealing himself, preparing himself for Kíli’s weight when he received an armful of him. However, Kíli stayed where he was, stiffening minutely, examining Fíli like he would a stranger with an odd proposition.

Devastation struck Fíli in the stomach.

_He – he doesn’t know me._

∞

Kíli lowered his violin. The man looked … _familiar_. Something he was rarely able to say with confidence. Kíli cocked his head to the side and studied him as he approached, slowly, as if Kíli would startle like some skittish deer.

“I’m not an animal, I won’t run away.” Kíli groused and took a few steps forward to prove his point.

“That’s … a relief, actually.” The man smiled, somehow managing to look miserable and happy all at once.

The man didn’t stop at an appropriate distance as Kíli assumed he would. In fact, he sidled right into Kíli’s space until they were sharing breath and heat. For reasons unknown, Kíli didn’t object. He searched the man’s face, not sure if he was hoping to find answers.

“Do – do you know me?”

“Yes.” The man whispered, bringing a hand to cup Kíli’s jaw. The gesture wasn’t shy. In fact, it felt like they’d done this a thousand times before. Like it was natural between them to touch and caress and fall into each other as people do when they’re –

“Do you love me?”

“More than anything.”

The man’s response didn’t startle Kíli as he imagined it should have. Which _did_ startle Kíli. Because who was told that they were loved – _by a stranger_ , no less – and didn’t have a single objection or thought to spare about how _impossible_ that was. And not simply a stranger, a man who’d decided to come through the bushes. Kíli’s head spun, his mind leaden and throbbing as it was bombarded by questions.

“Do you know who I am?” 

Their faces had drawn closer without Kíli noticing.

“Will you let me help you remember?”

Kíli nodded weakly, lids heavy and breath quick. The man’s hands coaxed Kíli to bend his head toward him. Their lips brushed and the sensation sparked fire through Kíli’s veins.

 _More, please, more_. 

∞

_I can’t believe I’m about to do this…_

As much as Gandalf argued the contrary, Faeries were exactly as described in the stories their mother had told them in their youth. Sneaky and wily and temperamental. And exceptionally fond of curses with simple resolutions. 

_True love’s kiss_ …

“This’d better not be a load of shit.” Fíli murmured when he pulled back, breath quavering as he searched Kíli’s eyes for any sign of recognition. All he saw was confusion.

“What?”

“Nothing,” Fíli said and took a second to muster all the belief and prayer and love he had within. Grabbing Kíli by the lapels, Fíli dragged him down and reclaimed his lips with renewed vigor, firmer and more … just _more_.

He nipped at Kíli’s mouth, pinprick sensations that drew a gasp Fíli wanted to hear again and again for the rest of his days. He sucked Kíli’s bottom lip between his teeth greedily and released, licking in to explore the wet heat of Kíli’s mouth. Kíli tasted of spice and musk and _home_. They slotted together, Kíli’s body beginning to slacken under Fíli’s ministrations. Kíli’s hands hesitantly moved to cup his waist, not clutching tight like Fíli wanted, but it was better than nothing at all.

The deeper he kissed Kíli, the more frantic Kíli responded, embracing him, accepting him, inviting him in.

Suddenly, Kíli tore himself from Fíli and released a wounded scream into the night.

_It was working._

Fíli caught him as he lurched forward on unstable legs. He collapsed into Fíli as years of memory crashed over him in waves, the sound of his reawakening echoing loudly in the courtyard.

“ _No!_ ” The shrill cry came from inside.

Dread filled Fíli. Kíli writhed and twisted unnaturally, both falling to the ground under his weight. The wind gusted and the air crackled, pricking the exposed skin on Fíli’s face and hands.

The door from the house to the courtyard exploded outwards, destroying most of the surrounding structure with it, and revealed the witch. Her face was gnarled with a firestorm-rage, tendrils of her dark magic spiking from her body and whipping in all directions. Fíli held Kíli tightly to him. He wouldn’t let go; he wouldn’t lose him. Not again.

“ _You will not take him!_ ”

“He is not yours to keep!” Fíli yelled, defiant, managing to rise to one knee. “He was never yours!”

The witch’s mouth spread into a thin, ugly smile, all black gums and sharp teeth. She raised her hands, concentrated blisters of magic ready to be hurled.

Before she could attack, however, everything went sideways. Great rips and tears split the world like shredded fabric.

The courtyard and everything around it receded and changed, whorls of new colors replacing the old. Bricks sunk into the earth and, where there had been carefully crafted walls, rocks and cavestone knitted together to form a cavern around them. Fíli held Kíli tightly when he recognized what the world was shifting to.

The witch came into focus seconds later, her wail ringing throughout the cave. Unaffected by the tug-drag of abruptly entering another world, she lunged at the brothers, scrabbling to reclaim her hold on the one she’d claimed for her heart.

She clawed herself across the ground, slithering with otherworldly speed toward Fíli and Kíli, who had gone rigid except for the erratic rise and fall of his chest.

As she came upon them, there was another clap-boom of light, this one warm and comforting. Flaring outward between the brothers and the witch, and in again, it took the shape of a person. Or rather, Fíli surmised, a Faerie.

The light dimmed to nothing and in its place floated the Faerie Fíli had come to know as Allya. Her angles and lines were harsher and her shoulders squarer as she stared the witch down. The witch rose onto her spindly legs and stared back, seeming far too excited about being interrupted.

“ _Hello sister_.”

Fíli knew it. A point he would celebrate later. For now, he had to ensure that Kíli would never be hunted by this hell-creature again.

A spear blossomed in Allya’s hand, readying to strike the witch who was still creeping toward them by inches.

“Wait!” He cried, laying Kíli down as gently as he could in his haste, “Stop!”

Both the witch and the Faerie looked at him in confusion.

He stood, reaching into his pocket. “Wait.” He said again with a calm he certainly didn’t feel.

The witch eyed him suspiciously but wait she did.

“I believe this is yours.” Fíli held out a stone that shone brighter than moonlight. The pure heart his uncle had stolen from her chest. “You can have it back only if you swear never to come after us. You leave us in peace. You leave _Kíli_ in peace.”

Fíli refused to gape at what happened next. Gradually, in increments, the witch’s magic abated. Her face softened and limbs released their perverted shape. She was made lovely once again.

“You would return my heart to me? Against the wishes of your king?”

“I would do anything, against him or anyone else, if it means my brother is safe and his life is his own.”

Allya smiled, banishing the spear into nothingness, and glided forward. She reached out to take the pure heart from Fíli so that she might return it to her sister.

“What say you, Moira? Will you give them peace?”

The witch – Moira – considered long enough for Fíli’s hope to falter but, eventually, she, too, smiled and accepted her heart from Allya. The stone’s light flared, glad to be reunited with she who belonged to it.

“You have my word.” 

** … Whose Heart Was Made Of Bones And Flesh **  
  
---  
  
**With** her pure heart returned, the woman blessed the young princes and gifted them with a raven who was wise and loyal and great in size so as to be ridden across the skies of Arda to home.

After the witch vanished, the young prince turned to the fae-witch and thanked her for all she had done. As a final gift, she blessed the young princes with pendants of ice that would never melt and would always point them in the direction of the other so long as their love was true.

Many weeks later, when the princes finally returned home on the back of their raven, much had changed. They were received by their mother who had forced the new king from his throne. She sat in his stead, proudly and without the madness that had corrupted him and his grandfather-king before him. She welcomed them with feasts and dancing and allowed the all the peoples of their kingdom and others to join them in their celebrations.

But, it was when the merrymaking was over that the brothers truly celebrated. In the sanctity of their chambers, in the light of a dying fire, they found love in each other, using their bodies to explain all the things they couldn’t say in words…

** Part Four **  
  
---  
  
**Fíli** slunk behind Kíli and wrapped his arms around Kíli’s naked torso, relishing the feel of Kíli’s smooth back against his furry chest. He’d missed this so profoundly Fíli wasn’t sure how he’d managed to survive as long as he had without it. 

“How does it feel?” He asked, lips grazing the shell of Kíli’s ear. “Being yourself again?”

Kíli sighed contentedly, “Honestly?” He turned and grinned over his shoulder, a cheeky, sunbright thing, “It’s a relief to know I can play more than _one song_.”

There was a beat of stunned silence before Kíli snorted and then burst out laughing, Fíli joining in soon after. Kíli collected his violin from the chair beside the window where they stood and began to play. Fíli followed suit and together they played every melody Kíli remembered, their music carried by the wind to spread their joy throughout the land they called home.

**_And They Lived Happily Ever After…_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [The Crossroads of the Realms/Cave of Names: (ref.) The Way of Wizards by Tom Cross
> 
> The “Heartsong” inspired by: “ _I Wonder As I Wander_ ” performed by Lindsey Stirling
> 
> I imagine them playing “ _I Saw Three Ships_ ” performed by Lindsey Stirling at the end … do with that what you will XD]
> 
> THANK YOU to [@GatheringFiki](https://gatheringfiki.tumblr.com/) for challenging me to go beyond what I thought myself capable of :D 
> 
> thank you, all, for taking the time to read!


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